


Todd

by kikabennet



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Child Abuse, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Gotham Bruce Wayne, Gotham Selina Kyle, kid jason todd, robins, teen dick grayson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikabennet/pseuds/kikabennet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve-year-old Jason Todd is just a hungry kid who doesn't want to go home. When he attempts to steal the rims from the wrong car, his life changes forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend who LOVES Jason Todd. Okay, so I LOVE Gotham so I'm basing my Bruce and Selina off of David Mazouz and Camren Bicondova's portrayals (only grown up versions of them). I know I may not have all of the canon stuff correct, but it's a fanfiction, right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! I will continue if it gets enough feedback. Thanks!

 

Jason snuck out of the window of his bedroom, closing it behind him quietly. Even as he left the house, he could hear his parents screaming at one another. His father was drunk, his mother was probably high, and soon they would be shoving and punching each other.

'Better them than me', Jason thought bitterly, pulling the sleeves of his too big black sweater down his wrists. His arms and wrists were covered in bruises, as was his torso. There was a small mark forming just under his eye where his father had back-handed him earlier that day because Jason had broke a glass in the kitchen while his father had been passed out on the sofa.

Gotham was not a glamorous city. Even the upscale portion had its problems, but the slums were the worst. Jason did not fear them. He lived in the most ghetto neighborhood of Gotham. The kind of neighborhood religious solicitors and pizza deliverers would not set foot in. He pulled his hood over his head as he walked along the sidewalk, weaving in and out of prostitutes, drug dealers, and deranged homeless people. He wasn't sure where he was going. He just knew he couldn't be at home another night until his parents settled down.

The sound of police sirens wailed miserably a block over, and somewhere a baby cried. Jason found himself on the corner of the street, wondering where to go. He was tired, and hungry, but sleep and food would not come for a long time, he knew. It wasn't hard finding somewhere to sleep, but that was when it was warm out. Tonight was a chilly October evening, and even though Jason was wearing one of his father's old sweaters, it did little to keep him warm against the chill.

As he continued on, crossing the street and ignoring the crosswalk-the way everyone in the neighborhood did, he found his way near an alley. There wasn't much light around, and it was narrow, but Jason stopped just short of it, pondering the idea of crashing there. He could sit upright between some trash cans maybe, fall asleep with his head in his knees. He moved around the side of the building that created the narrow passage, and without effort, he backed up and made a running jump for the ladder a few feet up that connected to the fire escape. He climbed it easily, and flipped up and onto the roof, rolling across the hard cement surface. When he stood up, he moved to the edge of the building to see if there were any creepers down below in the alley. His brows furrowed at what he saw. A car. A car could not possibly have fit in that narrow of a space, but there was a long, black vehicle.

Jason climbed back down the building like a monkey and moved into the alley-barely enough room between him and the car, his back scraping against the alley wall. He cupped his hands and peered into the window of the driver side. He then moved to the back and tapped the trunk. What kind of car was this?

He noticed the rims on the wheel-how shiny they were, how expensive they looked. This car probably belonged to one of Gotham's wealthier citizens, and they were probably here for a drug deal. Often, Jason would see an expensive car with a nervous rich person inside, crawling down the road and stick a well-manicured hand out the window just enough to pass one of his people some cash and get a paper bag in return.

Jason left the alley and ran back to his house. He sneaked in through his bedroom window and picked up his crowbar. Well, his father's crowbar, but Jason had had it in his room for so long that he considered it his. He then crawled back out and ran back to the alley two blocks over, hoping that the car was still there. Those rims alone could buy him his next four meals.

Luckily, the car was there, and Jason went to work on the tire near the driver side, since he could not be seen at all from the street. Once he had the rim off, he set it aside and moved to the back tire on the same side. After the second rim, he stood up to move to the other side of the car and then jumped, dropping the rim in his hand.

“What are you doing?”

Standing in front of him was a large man in a black suit, the Batman. Even in the grimy parts of Gotham, kids talked about him. He was sometimes on the news. Jason had never seen him in person before.

“I said what are you doing?” He repeated, taking a step closer to Jason.

Jason held the crow bar protectively in front of himself. The Batman looked at the rims, and then back at Jason, who looked pitiful holding the crowbar, wearing jeans that were ratty and fraying at the cuffs, sneakers that looked like they should have been thrown out years ago, and a man's sweater that practically swallowed him.

“Why were you stealing the rims?” The Batman asked.

“I need the money,” Jason said, trying to keep his voice steady.

He didn't say he needed the money for food, he had that much pride. He refused to come off as some starving charity case, even to the bat.

“Where are your parents?” The Batman asked.

“I don't got any,” Jason lied, even though it's not like his parents were worth anything. Hell, they probably didn't even know he was gone.

The Batman stood there for several seconds, and then retrieved his keys from his belt and the passenger door next to Jason, opened, lifting up instead of sideways. Jason looked at the car, and then back at Batman.

“Get in,” Batman said.

“Fuck you,” Jason told him.

The Batman shoved him into the seat and slammed the door down. He then went around to the driver's side and climbed in. Jason looked at him.

“Are you gonna kill me?” He asked, trying to sound tough, daring.

“Where did you get those bruises on your arm?” Batman asked instead of answering.

Jason realized his sleeves had ridden up and the marks on his arms were visible. He pulled his sleeves back down.

“You hungry?” Batman asked, starting the engine.

===================================================================================

Jason didn't know where they were, but it looked like a palace. Batman took hold of his arm and marched him to the door and unlocked it, moving them both inside.

“What is this place? An orphanage?” Jason asked.

“Alfred?” Batman called.

An older man in a nice suit appeared shortly. He looked questioningly at Jason.

“A visitor?” He asked Batman warily.

“Would you mind fixing him something to eat?” Batman asked.

“Of course,” Alfred said, giving the kid a strange look as he disappeared to somewhere else.

Batman took off his cowl. TOOK OFF HIS COWL, and Jason looked him in the face. He was an average looking man with a shy demeanor to him.

“Make yourself at home,” he told Jason.

“I know your identity now,” Jason said. “I could sell it, you know. To the media.”

“Who am I?” The man asked, a trace of amusement tugging at his lips.

Jason shrugged. “Some dude.”

He looked around the large parlor and said, “Some rich dude.”

Alfred returned with a tray holding a hearty looking sandwich, a small bowl of chopped fruit, a snack size bag of chips, and a tall glass of milk. The sandwich was hot-Jason could tell by its smell. Batman patted him on the shoulder, prodding him to a dining area with a long table and several chairs. Jason allowed himself to be prodded into sitting down. Alfred set the food before him.

“Please, eat,” Batman said.

Jason was wary of this strange hospitality, but his stomach was growling. He began eating, much too fast, and tried to force himself to slow down. The sandwich had thick-cut meat, melted cheese, toasted bread, and vegetables-which Jason usually avoided, but the lettuce and tomato he ate now was heaven because his stomach was becoming full. The fruit bowl consisted of chopped apples, bananas, mandarin oranges, pineapple, grapes, and melon chunks. He was so busy eating that he didn't see the two adult men leave. Alfred returned first with some clothes folded over his arm. Jason gave him a strange look, his mouth stuffed with food and mayo on the corner of his lips.

“These should fit you,” Alfred told him. “They're not new, but it's been ages since they've been worn.”

“I have clothes,” Jason said. “And I'm not staying.”

“I'm afraid the aroma your clothes are giving off is not the most fragrant,” Alfred replied simply.

Jason couldn't remember when the last time his clothes had been washed, even his underwear. He continued to eat and when he was done, Alfred gestured for him to follow. He led him upstairs-up the first flight of stairs. Jason was surprised to see another, making the structure three stories, and was even more surprised to find himself standing beside Alfred in a bedroom that was almost as big as his own house.

“You may change here,” Alfred told him. “The wash room is just over there. Please shower, Sir.”

Jason did not shower, but did change clothes. They were a little big, but they would do, and they certainly felt and smelled nicer. The sleeves were long enough to cover his bruised arms, which he preferred. He was tired of teachers asking him about them.

The room wasn't lavishly furnished. There was a large bed, the kind Jason had seen in hotels he'd snuck into to steal hair dryers (they were great for keeping warm in the winter), and the bed had lots of pillows. Jason gingerly climbed onto it and once he was on his hands and knees, collapsed onto his stomach. It was the softest, most comfortable bed he'd ever laid on.

The room also had a dresser, a nightstand, some paintings on the wall, a chest at the foot of the bed, and two closets. The window was large and had a latch that meant it opened sideways with two doors, not up and down. He got up and walked over to the window. There was a balcony outside.

“Whoa...” he breathed quietly, pressing his hands to the glass.

A knock sounded at the door and startled him. Batman came in, dressed in normal clothes now, and Jason turned around to face him.

“My name is Bruce,” the man said. “Bruce Wayne.”

Jason thought the name sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure. He frowned at Bruce Wayne.

“You the mayor or something?” He asked.

Bruce laughed in an affectionate, almost reassuring way.

“No, no,” he said. “I own Wayne Enterprises. I'm, uh, a pretty big deal here in Gotham.”

“Oh.” Jason didn't know what to say to that. “I think Batman is a bigger deal.”

“I have a lot of secrets,” Bruce told him, still smiling kindly. “What about you? You have a lot of secrets?”

Jason nodded.

“Is your name one of them?” Bruce asked.

“Jason,” Jason replied.

“Jason,” Bruce repeated, nodding.

For several seconds, neither of them said anything.

“You know, Jason,” Bruce finally said. “I have a son, Dick. Those are his clothes you're wearing.”

Jason looked down at the clothes, briefly thinking he might be forced to give them back. He imagined some rich, spoiled brat running around getting newer clothes, newer everything, better food.

“He's seventeen now. Left home a while back, wanted to find himself and what not.”

“Oh.” Jason wasn't sure what Bruce wanted him to say. Boo hoo, poor you?

“You remember Robin?” Bruce asked.

The sidekick. Jason had never actually seen him either, but word was the Bat had a boy wonder sidekick. A kick-ass kid who could pound bad guys with the best of them.

“Dick is Robin?” Jason guessed.

“Was Robin,” Bruce corrected him. He sat down on the bed and said, “I saw you before you took those rims, you know. I saw you scaling the building, saw you running. You're very agile.”

“You have to be where I live,” Jason replied with a shrug.

“Maybe you could teach me a thing or two,” Bruce said.

“Teach you?” Jason smirked. “The Batman?”

“Never hurts to learn from a professional,” Bruce said with a shrug. He looked at his watch and told Jason, “It's getting late. Need a ride home?”

Jason thought about his 'home'. His father would probably be passed out on the floor, or worse, he'd be awake. He would be angry when Jason walked in so late. He would be mean. His fists would fly. His mother would be out roaming the streets or strung out on drugs. She would mutter horrible things to Jason about his father, about him. There would be no heat, and Jason only had the ratty blanket that didn't fit on his bed. There would be no food, and in the morning, he would have to go steal from the mini mart on the corner.

“I don't need a ride, I can walk” he said.

Bruce stared at him.

“Okay,” He said, standing back up. “Well, if you want, you can shower before you go. There are clean towels in the bathroom.”

He left the room and Jason went into the bathroom, telling himself he was just going to pee. There was a pair of folded up pajamas-a t shirt and flannel pants on top of the toilet lid. Jason stripped out of his clothes and turned on the shower. The sprayer had just enough force and the hot water lasted longer than a few minutes. The shampoo and soap had minty smells, and Jason loved it. When he was finished, he dried off with the plush towels and stared down at the balled up clothes he'd just been wearing. He put on the pajamas instead.

It wouldn't kill him just to stay one night. He climbed onto the bed and pulled back the covers. The sheets felt cool and silky against his skin, and the comforter was soft and heavy. He was clean, comfortable, and warm, and best of all, full. He drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

=============================================================================================

Jason woke up with a gasp. He noticed a digital clock on the nightstand table. It was nearly five in the morning. He laid back down, his breathing shallow and quick, and he closed his eyes. When his father found about this...he did not want to think about that right now.

He got up and went to the bathroom to pee, and then opened the bedroom door. The house, more like the palace, was completely dark and silent. Jason moved down the hall and to the stairs, sitting down on the top step. He put his head on his knees and covered his head with his hands. He knew what was going to happen. Bruce would call social services. Social services would call his parents. They would spin some story that he was mad at them for not getting him the new bicycle he wanted and that's why he ran away. He would then get sent back where he would promptly get a good, sound beating-mostly in the face.

He remembered a few years before, when he had stolen someone's pizza from the counter at a local pizza joint. The cashier had seen him do it, and grabbed him, sitting him in a chair and calling the cops. When the cops had arrived, Jason had pleaded with them not to call his parents. He'd told them he'd rather to jail and that he was just hungry. The officer dealing with him had been kind, but firm, and called his parents anyway. He'd driven Jason home and his mother had rushed outside and pulled her against his side, fake weeping. After the officer had driven away, his father, who had been lurking by the front door, stormed over and smacked Jason's face so hard that he fell down. He was nine years old.

“Jason?”

Jason raised his head and stared at two pajama bottom-clad legs. He looked up and saw Bruce standing behind him.

“You're gonna call social services,” he said.

Bruce sat down next to him. He stared pointedly at Jason's arm, and Jason started to pull down his sleeves when he realized he was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt.

“You like hot chocolate?” Bruce asked. He stood up and Jason followed him down the stairs to the kitchen.

“We won't wake Alfred,” Bruce said, moving around awkwardly. “Um...let's see...”

Jason hoisted himself onto the counter top, his feet clunking against the cabinet below. He watched as Bruce searched for items to make hot chocolate.

“Here we go,” Bruce said, taking out a sauce pan. He moved to the refrigerator to get some milk.

Jason watched as he poured milk and heated it on the stove, and once it was hot, he poured it into two mugs and opened a canister and spooned out dark powder.

“It's from Belgium,” he told Jason.

He brought one of the mugs over to Jason and leaned against the kitchen isle opposite of the counter Jason was seated on. Jason clumsily stirred his spoon around in his mug. The hot chocolate really was good. Nothing like the stuff they had at the mini mart that came out of dispenser.

“Why are you Batman?” He asked suddenly.

“This city needs someone like Batman,” Bruce said. “The police can't do it alone.”

Jason sipped at his drink.

“What happened to Robin?” He wanted to know.

“He grew up,” Bruce said with a sigh. “Moved away.”

“From this place?” Jason scoffed.

“Your parents must be worried,” Bruce said.

Jason stared down into his mug. Bruce set his own mug down.

“You were stealing the rims for food money, weren't you?” He asked, in such an understanding way that Jason couldn't help but nod his head a little.

“I'll wake you up in the morning for breakfast,” Bruce said, giving a shy half smile as he patted Jason's shoulder. “Alfred's favorite meal is breakfast so you won't be disappointed.”

He set his mug in the sink and said, “Good night, Jason.”

“Night,” Jason muttered, wondering what he was going to do.

 

To Be Continued...

 

Spoiler Alert, Teen Dick Grayson in the next chapter

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jason awoke feeling better than he'd slept in a long time. He was warm, his stomach was full, and he was clean. The sun streamed through the curtains and he could hear birds somewhere outside. He got out of bed and traveled down the two flights of stairs, nixing the second flight and just hopping over the banister. It didn't scare him at all. He was used to climbing and hopping so many fences that level to level inside seemed like nothing.

“Good morning, Master Jason,” Alfred said, walking by with a basket of laundry. “Are you hungry?”

“Um...” Jason didn't know what to say to this man. He'd never been around a butler before.

“Saying 'good morning' in return would be a good start,” Alfred said.

“Good morning,” Jason muttered. He didn't know why, but he felt like he should behave around this man, even more than Bruce who owned the place.

He followed Alfred into the dining room where a plate of eggs, french toast, ham, and fresh fruit was waiting at the table. There were also two glasses, one with milk, and the other with some sort of pinkish red juice.

“I trust you slept well,” Alfred said as Jason sat down.

“Yeah, I did,” Jason said, his stomach growling loudly.

Just as he started to eat, the front door opened and closed, followed by something thunking onto the hard floor and loud whistling. Jason, cheeks stuffed with food like a little chipmunk preparing for winter, watched as an older boy strolled into the dining area, hand jammed down the back of his jeans as he scratched his rear. He didn't seem to notice Jason at first, and was still whistling a tune as he passed him to go into the kitchen. Jason could hear him opening and shutting cabinets loudly, followed by the refrigerator door. He returned eating a bowl of cereal.

“Master Dick!” Alfred said cheefully, approaching him. “Welome home, Son.”

“Hey, Al.” Dick gave him a one-armed hug, careful to not spill his cereal.

“How is Bloodhaven?” Alfred asked. “Do you have any laundry that needs done? You look thinner. Are you eating regularly? You left your vitamins here as well...”

Jason watched, still cramming his mouth full of food and chewing as Bruce came in, wearing a bathrobe over his t-shirt and pajama pants.

“Dick,” He said softly, but still sounded surprised.

“Bruce.” Dick grinned, taking another bite of cereal and set it down on the table to embrace the older man with both arms.

Jason watched as Bruce actually returned the squeeze and pulled back to put both hands on the boy's cheeks.

“You look good,” he said, removing his hands.

“You two,” Dick said, picking his bowl of cereal back up. He pointed his spoon at Jason. “So, who's the kid eating french toast that should be mine?”

Alfred chuckled and replied, “This is Jason. He's a guest in our home.”

Dick looked at Jason and Jason took a long drink of the slightly bitter red juice, never taking his eyes off of the older boy. He'd learned a long time ago that a stare down can mean everything. He was not about to let Dick intimidate him just because he was here first.

“Another circus accident?” Dick asked Bruce with raised eyebrows, and Bruce lightly scuffed him.

“Ow!” Dick laughed and said, “Seriously, where'd he come from?”

“I was taking the wheels off the batcar,” Jason said boldly, putting his empty glass down.

Dick looked at Bruce, brows furrowed now. “Huh?”

“We'll talk,” Bruce said. “Finish your cereal and go wash up.”

Dick rolled his eyes but said nothing else on the matter and chatted cheerfully about Bloodhaven and something about a night wing, whatever that was. After he returned his bowl to the kitchen, he passed through the dining room again and looked at Jason.

“The wheels, huh?” He grinned, shaking his head.

Jason didn't know what to think of Dick. Why was he here? Didn't Bruce say he ran away? After he ate, he did as Dick had done and took his dishes into the kitchen, unsure of where they were supposed to go. At the sink, there was a bottle of fancy looking pink soap and a sponge, so he began to wash them.

“Master Jason?” Alfred approached.

“What?” Jason looked at him.

“That's hand soap,” Alfred explained gently.

“Soap is soap, right?” Jason said, frowning as Alfred delicately moved him aside.

“Why don't you go get dressed?” Alfred suggested. “I washed your clothes for you. They're on the bed.”

Jason traveled back upstairs, trudging this time, and found his clothes right where Alfred said they would be. His ratty, frayed jeans. His faded t-shirt. His father's hooded sweatshirt. His socks and underwear. At least they were all clean. He got dressed and sat at the foot of the bed. He heard footsteps and saw Dick pass by-more like strut or dance or even twirl by, carrying a towel over his arm. He stopped and backed up so he was standing in the doorway. Jason frowned at him.

“So where'd Bruce pick you up at?” He asked.

“No where you'd ever survive,” Jason said.

“Try me,” Dick dared, sounding more amused than competitive.

“The East side,” Jason told him.

“Oh, alright.” Dick simply nodded. “Well, gonna take a shower.”

Jason didn't what to make of that. Hadn't he just said 'try me'? Did Jason win the argument that easily? He decided it wasn't worth worrying about and ventured back out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. Bruce was dressed now too, and in a suit. He was straightening his tie. He noticed Jason and gave a soft smile. Jason still didn't understand how his shy, quiet man could be the same man that dressed all in black and kicked the shit out of Gotham's worst.

“I have a meeting,” he told Jason. “But when I get back, I'd like to talk with you.”

“About what?” Jason asked flatly.

“Your parents,” Bruce said. “They must wonder where you are.”

“I told you I don't have any,” Jason all but snapped, his blue eyes intense.

Bruce nodded, unsurprised by Jason's hostile attitude.

“We'll talk,” he repeated in his annoyingly calm way before disappearing and calling for Alfred.

Jason stood there scowling, and then the thought of his parents actually began to creep into his mind. It left a sick, lurching feeling in his stomach. He'd ran away from home plenty of times, but was always dragged back, and it never ended well. He felt something touch him from behind and he jumped, startled. Behind him, Dick was dressed with damp hair.

“You like basketball?” He asked.

Jason did like basketball. When he was younger and he'd escape from home, he would go to the park, pretending it would be a dream come true to live there. He'd spend the day running around and shooting hoops with neighborhood boys. It was only night when it was dark and cold, and Jason would be huddled in the old tree with branches that begged to be climbed, that it was no longer fun.

Dick shoved the side of his head playfully and said, “Come shoot some hoops with me, Kid.”

Reluctantly, Jason followed Dick outside to which looked like its very own park. Dick called it 'the grounds' and it had elaborately trimmed hedges, a fountain, a pool, two tennis courts, and a basketball court.

“Bruce had the court built for me after I came here,” he explained as the walked onto the court.

“You're not his son?” Jason asked, frowning.

Dick shrugged, picking up a basketball from the grass beside the court.

“He adopted me, but no, not his biological son,” he told him, already starting to dribble. He raised his arms and threw the ball, making a perfect shot into the net. When it bounced back to him, he tossed it to Jason.

“You have any brothers or sisters?” He asked the younger boy.

Jason shook his head and made a shot. It missed by a long shot. He jogged after the ball.

“It's just you and the parents, huh?” Dick guessed. “Oh, wait. I forgot. You don't have parents.”

“What happened to yours?” Jason wanted to know.

“Trapeze artists,” Dick said simply. “They fell. No safety net.”

Jason missed the ball that was tossed to him. Since when had he become so terrible at this?

“But they loved you?” He guessed.

“Yeah.” Dick nodded. “Yours?”

Jason scoffed and said, “Fuck no” and then realized his mistake.

Dick raised his eyebrows at him. Jason looked away and fired the ball again. This time, he made the basket. They played in silence after that, and Jason sort of liked that Dick teased him a little-pretending like he was going to throw the ball at his face in close range but just holding onto it, or showing off their height difference by tossing the ball into the basket right over Jason's head. Jason had no siblings, but he wondered if this is what having a big brother was like.

======================================

After they were too sweaty and tired to play anymore, they traveled back inside and Jason was surprised to find that Alfred had a pitcher of ice water and two glasses ready on a tray. The water had orange slices and mint leaves floating around in it.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick said in one breath, pouring himself some water and chugging it down.

Jason copied Dick, drinking as much as he could in one gulp.

Dick let out a loud satisfied noise as he plunked his glass down and wiped his sweaty face with his t-shirt. He walked away and Jason stood there, unsure of what to do without him. He wandered around the manor and found Dick in some sort of room with a wrap around sofa and large television, bigger than any he'd ever seen except for the movie theater. There were two shelves stocked full of videos. Shelves that went from ceiling to floor. Dick was lounging on the sofa, a remote control on his stomach, one hand behind his head as he stared at some sort of action flick playing on the TV. He glanced at Jason and said inattentively, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jason said awkwardly. Without asking, he sat down beside Dick.

“What room is this?” He asked after several minutes.

“Entertainment room,” Dick said.

“How's he so rich?” Jason wanted to know.

“Bruce?” Dick looked at him.

“Yeah.”

“He runs Wayne Enterprise,” he Dick said. “He practically runs Gotham.”

“He said he wants to talk to me when he gets back,” Jason said, knowing that the talk would consist of Bruce telling him that he had to go back home, and whether he liked it or not, Jason would wind up there with his parents faking concern and then beating and starving him once again.

Dick finally looked at him, really looked at him, and turned the television to mute. Jason looked back at him, and then away. Dick sat up and scooted over, silently offering Jason to sit next to him. Jason scooted closer and they both leaned back into the sofa as Dick turned the volume back up, his arm slung over the back of the sofa behind Jason's head.

==================================================================

Jason spent the remainder of the day just wandering around the manor and “the grounds” (he was still trying to get used to that term) when Bruce returned home. He greeted Jason with a kind smile and asked him how he was and if he needed anything, and then he greeted Dick with a lot more openness, which made Jason just a little bit perturbed for reasons he didn't understand. Alfred made a delicious dinner of pork roast, some sort of odd but delicious potatoes, and string beans that Jason actually enjoyed when he usually hated to eat anything green. For dessert, Alfred served cherry pie and ice cream, which Jason mentally dubbed his new favorite food. If there was any left over, he was thinking of sneaking it for breakfast.   
Breakfast. How many mornings would he actually spend here before Bruce sent him back? He couldn't keep Jason forever. Even if the Todds were terrible people, keeping Jason would technically be kidnapping, and once the his parents found out Bruce Wayne was keeping their son, they would try and say he abducted Jason in hopes of milking money out of it.

===================================================================

Jason returned home that night. He would rather just face his parents and get it over with than get social services involved. Sneaking back into his house through his bedroom window, he climbed onto his small twin bed with the mattress that was filled with little scratches and holes and the thread bare blanket. The room was cold and had a funny smell.

He awoke with a blow to the side of his head.

“Where were you?” His father demanded, striking him again. “Little shit!”

“Leave him alone,” his mother said, but his father struck her too. He continued to hit Jason, and when Jason finally rolled onto the floor and curled up, protecting his face with his arms, his father began to kick him. When he stormed back out of the room, Jason slowly uncovered his face and sat up, staring at his mother. He could feel blood trickling down his lip.

“Mom-” he started, but she gave him a nasty look, her eyes glossy.

“You know better than to pull shit like this,” she said. “You know how he gets.”

With that, she stormed out too, leaving Jason on the floor, cold and aching.

“Ouch.” Someone said, and Jason turned to his window to see Dick swinging himself inside.

Jason frowned at him, embarrassed about him seeing what went on in the Todd house behind closed doors. Dick probably couldn't even fathom some of things he parents said and did to him.

“The hell do you want?” Jason demanded, picking up an dirty t-shirt from the floor and pressing it to his lip. “How did you even find me here?”

“I followed you,” Dick said simply.

Jason's brows furrowed. “Last night?”

“It's still night,” Dick said. “You've only been asleep an hour.”

Jason softened just a little. For reasons he didn't understand, he felt sort of relieved that Dick had followed him.

“Why?” He asked.

“Why what?” Dick asked, picking up random items and observing them.

“Why'd you follow me?”

“Because Bruce told me to,” Dick said simply. “I was getting ready to head back to Bloodhaven-”

“Bruce told you to?” Jason was completely soft now, and felt his cheeks burning.

Dick seemed to take notice, because he gave Jason a sincere smile and said, “Come back to Wayne Manor, Kid. We got plenty of cherry pie for you.”

“I live here,” Jason said pathetically, knowing deep in his heart that things could never end well for him . They never did.

He sat on his bed and Dick moved to sit beside him. For several seconds, the two of them said nothing. Finally, Dick slapped Jason on the thigh and said, “Door's always open, Kiddo. Better come knockin' before Bruce decides to come collect you.”

“He doesn't want me,” Jason muttered. “You're his son.”

“A guy can't have more than one?” Dick asked, scoffing softly as he stood up and stretched. He made his way back to the window, preparing to make his exit.

Jason watched as he jumped, and then ran to the window calling, “Wait! Dick! Come back!”

Dick was nowhere to be seen.

 

To Be Continued...

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, so sorry for the delay. Honestly I didn't think I'd get that many readers, but now with Gotham back on TV my brain is in Batman mode so there should be more to come. Please let me know what you think in the comments and I'll try and respond to each and every comment. Any suggestions, go nuts. I'd love some. Thanks!

Jason avoided his house the following day. His sides and jaw still hurt from his father's beating, and it was growing colder outside, but he would not go back to Bruce's palace. He would not. Somehow, in some way, it had to be a trap. Nobody just wanted pathetic kids from the slums, especially rich guys that owned the city.   
The day seemed to drag on, and even though the smoky autumn sunshine was warm, the wind was cold. Jason could no longer stand it and found refuge right where he was-in front of a fancy looking building that wasn't in the best part of town, but it certainly wasn't the worst. It was the area that literally divided Gotham's elite from the unwanted. He sat down and rubbed his hands together, glad to be out of the wind. He wondered what Dick was doing. He wondered what Alfred was cooking. He wondered if Bruce might be looking for him. The last thought made him bury his head in his drawn-up knees. He had to quit kidding himself.

  
“Hey, Kid.”

  
Jason raised his head to see a young woman staring down at him. She nodded at the door he was sitting beside.

  
“You got business with the penguin?” She wanted to know.

  
Jason frowned.

  
“Who?” He asked.

  
“You're parked right outside his club,” she said, smirking a little.

  
She was pretty-petite and slender with a mop of dirty blonde curls and bright green eyes. Jason slid up the length of the wall into a standing position.   
“No,” he admitted, hoping the answer would be good enough to send her away.

  
Instead, she cocked her head slightly, studying him for a few seconds and then said, “Come on. I'll get you something to eat.”

  
Jason frowned. Did his appearance just scream CHARITY CASE or something? He knew with all of his new scrapes and bruises he looked worse now then he did when Bruce found him, but still.

  
“I'm not some starving street kid,” he said.

  
The woman shrugged and crossed her arms.

  
“Until it's nine o'clock at night and you have actual hunger pains, right?”

  
Jason felt his defense drop just a little. The woman started walking and turned back to see if he was following her. He wasn't. She kept going. Jason slowly started after her, and then quickly once he realized how fast she walked.

  
“I can take care of myself,” he said. “And if you're from some 'feed the children' crap. Some charity...” he wasn't really sure what to follow up with at that point.

  
He didn't even have to follow up with anything. He watched as the woman brushed against a man talking on his cellphone, and they smiled apologetically at one another, her fingers worked their way into his pants pocket under his long coat. She sped up a little, and abruptly turned a corner. She fished some bills from the wallet and then dropped it on the ground. Jason was in awe. He knew some petty thieves, but he'd never witnessed anything like that.

  
“I've been there,” she told him casually, as if she hadn't just pick-pocketed some poor bystander. “That whole 'leave me alone,I don't need your help' gig. It's protective.”

  
Jason didn't like her pinning his wings to the board like that. Without even realizing it, he'd followed her into a cafe. She sauntered up to the counter like she owned the place and told the man at the counter, “A girl could use some pancakes.”

  
She then went and slid into a booth. Jason took the opposite side.

  
“Could you teach me?” He asked, feeling his cheeks burn.

  
“What? How to get a couple of bucks from a wallet?” She asked, eyebrows raised.

  
Jason nodded.

  
“That was just for old time's sake, Kid,” she told him. “I don't really do that anymore.”

  
Her cell phone buzzed loudly and she retrieved it from her pocket, reading the screen. Jason saw a small tug at the corner of her mouth and she bit her bottom lip to keep from fully grinning as she quickly texted something. She put her phone away and turned her attention to Jason again.

  
“You got a name?” She asked.

  
“Jason,” he said, sitting up straight as a server came by and plunked two glasses of water and a cup of coffee in front of her.

  
“Some pancakes for him too,” The woman said to the waitress and she nodded.

  
“Thank you,” Jason said to the waitress, wondering if he should have said it to his pick-pocketing friend.

  
“Selina,” she told him, as if reading his mind.

  
The pancakes arrived almost instantly and Jason tried hard to keep from drooling. The smell was almost overwhelming and his stomach muscle pulsed painfully Maybe he really was starving and didn't even know it.

  
“You know what?” Selina pointed her fork at him. “I have a friend that might be able to help you out with this teaching stuff.”

  
Jason looked up from his plate curiously. Selina shrugged again, giving him the opportunity to say yes or no or ask any more questions. Right now, his only thoughts were about pancakes and the more full his belly became, the more his mind cleared.

  
“He could teach me how to steal,” he said, wondering if that would finally give him the freedom from his awful home life that he needed.

  
“He could teach you a lot of things,” Selina said, taking a long sip of her coffee.

  
“Where do I find him?” Jason asked, watching as she threw one of the stolen twenties down on the table. He stood up when she did.

  
“Let's go to my place,” she suggested. “He'll find us.”

 

\-----------------------------------

  
Jason felt strange about going to some woman's place when he'd just met her, but she didn't give off social service kind of vibes. All the time in the slums, different church groups and charity organizations were always trying to round up the street kids Selina was definitely not one of them. She led him to a swanky, colorful neighborhood where some metal spiral stairs led up to an upstairs apartment above a bakery. There were a couple of cats hanging around outside on the small fire escape. Selina unlocked the door and went inside. Jason followed her.  
The apartment looked larger on the inside, and was lavishly decorated in an odd way. The paintings on the wall didn't seem to go together, nor did the decorative vases and art pieces. Selina opened the living room window and picked up a black cat, nosing it's soft fur and murmuring soft things to it. After she put it back outside and closed the window, she turned to Jason and smiled.

  
“Wanna use the shower?” She asked.

  
Jason did use the shower, and the hot water felt good, even on his fresh scrapes. Selina lent him a t-shirt and sweatpants that were a little big, but she said they belonged to a friend's son. When he got out of the bathroom, his skin still warm from the hot water, Selina was nowhere to be found. There was a note on the fridge, however, written in looped, girlish handwriting.

  
_'Gone out for the night. Take the couch. Blankets and extra pillows in the bathroom closet_

  
Jason took only a blanket and laid on the couch, happy once again that he was somewhere that wasn't his house. Selina, he thought, might actually want him. Maybe he could work for her. Be her go-to kid and run all her errands, and along the way, she could show him how to survive the streets. His thoughts were becoming more murky with every tick from the cat clock that hung above the fireplace. He felt himself drifting off, imagining all kinds of scenarios that would bring him new life.

\-----------------------

  
He woke up hearing voices speaking around him quietly. He rolled onto his back, kicking the rest of the blanket off that was already mostly on the floor, and forced his eyes to open. He saw Selina first, staring down at him. She was dressed in skin-tight black leggings now and some sort of athletic looking black turtleneck and high boots and gloves. Next to her was...  
Jason sat up now, still sleepy, but his tired, heavy eyes widened in surprise.

  
“Bruce!” He rasped out.

  
“Hey.” Bruce was kneeling down beside the couch and he spoke softly.

  
Jason looked at Selina. Her back was turned to him, however, and she was pulling off the black turtleneck. Jason looked away, feeling awkward about her undressing in the living room. She toed off her boots and wriggled out of her pants, now standing in an undershirt and underwear. Bruce took notice of Jason's discomfort and turned to look at her.

  
“Selina!” He scoffed quietly, though his tone was affectionate.

  
“Hey, my apartment, my rules,” she said, walking away with her clothes and boots to the bedroom.

  
Bruce, Jason noticed, was eyeing the new marks on his arms Jason shifted uncomfortably. What on earth was he doing here? How in the hell did Selina know him?

  
“Selina's place can get a little cramped,” Bruce said. “Think you'd like to come back with me for a while?”

  
“How did you even find me?” Jason wanted to know.

  
“Selina told me she had a 'guest' over when I ran into her this evening,” Bruce explained. “I had a feeling it might be you before I even came inside.”

  
Jason said nothing. Bruce patted his leg.

  
“How long is a while?” Jason asked carefully.

  
Bruce only smiled that gentle smile of his that Jason hated because it made him let his guard down a little every time he saw it. Jason got off the couch and made his way to the bathroom to collect his dirty clothes and his shoes where he'd left them balled up on the floor. He kept the sweats and t-shirt on and simply through his raggedy over sized sweatshirt over the clean t-shirt. He opened the bathroom door and then pulled it back slightly when he heard Bruce and Selina talking quietly to each other.

  
“Told you I could find him, _Detective_ , “ Selina said.

  
“Thank you, Selina,” Bruce replied, and Jason averted his eyes when their shadowy figures came together and kissed.

  
“So what are you gonna do with him anyway?” Selina asked. “Are you that lonely now that the other bird's flown the nest?”

  
Bruce sighed and said, “I don't know...just yet. He needs a home, a real home.”

  
Jason stared down at his worn sneakers. For reasons he didn't quite understand, his chest tightened and his throat clenched. He heard Selina give a dramatic, theatrical sigh and Bruce chuckled softly.

  
“Jason?” Bruce called.

  
Jason walked out of the bathroom and looked between the two adults.

  
“Take care of yourself, Kid,” Selina said, rumpling his hair a little roughly. She looked at Bruce, eyebrows raised.

  
“Word to the wise,” she told him. “This one ain't Dick. He's street smart. You're gonna have your hands full.”

  
Bruce only smiled and said, “I'll see you Thursday.”

  
He pecked her on the lips and then gently prodded Jason out of the apartment. Once they were down the spiral stairs, Bruce led them to a car parked around the side of the building. It was not the Batmobile. Once they were inside and on their way back to the manor, Jason spoke up.

  
“I'm not an orphan,” he reminded Bruce. “My parents aren't just gonna give me up.”

  
For the right price, he thought bitterly, they might. Bruce only nodded a scrubbed a hand over his mouth, his eyes on the road.

  
“I'll take care of it,” he said.

  
Jason stared at him, but Bruce did not look back at him. When they reached the gates of the manor, Bruce stopped the car and turned to look at the boy, finally.

  
“How bad is it?” He asked.

  
“How bad is what?” Jason squirmed uncomfortably.

  
Bruce stared down at Jason's sweater and nodded, gesturing for the boy to raise it up. Jason did so, feeling embarrassed and ashamed as he raised part of the shirt and sweater to armpit level. The bruises there were dark and ugly, turning yellow around the edges. His father had not held back. He put his shirt back down.

  
“Is that all he does?” Bruce asked. “Hit you?”

  
Jason said nothing. What did Bruce want him to say? That his mother hit him too? That his father also screamed at him and threw things at him? That he starved him? That they would drink and get high and fight well into the night?  
Bruce reached over and patted his leg. He started the car again and drove up to the manor, parking the car in a garage filled with other cars, and motorcycles. Jason liked motorcycles. When they got inside, Dick and Alfred were in the large sitting room, along with a pretty red-haired girl. She smiled at Jason.

  
“Hello, Barbara,” Bruce said. “Nice to see you.”

  
“Hey, Bruce,” The girl said. She kissed Dick, getting off of his lap and said, “I have to get home. My dad will lock me up for the rest of my life if I'm even a second past my curfew.”

  
“I'll walk you to your car,” Dick offered. On his way out the door, he playfully slapped the seat of Jason's pants, making the boy jump.

  
“Welcome home, Squirt,” Dick said, turning around, grinning as he chewed some gum.

  
Jason scowled at him.

  
“Are you hungry, Master Jason?” Alfred asked.

  
Jason shook his head. He was mostly just tired. Bruce told him he could sleep in the same room as before. Jason went upstairs, back to the large room with the soft, plush bed and once he was laying under the cool sheets and warm blanket, he began to cry. He hoped nobody would hear him and come in. Everything was just becoming so complicated and in the end, he knew he would end up right back in his dilapidated house where his father would unleash his wrath once more and his mother would stand by, shaking her head.

\--------------------

  
Days went by and Jason heard no word of being sent home. He heard nothing about his parents looking for him and nothing came up on the television. Dick hung around a day or two more, playing basketball and watching movies with Jason. Sometimes Barbara would be with him. Jason blushed every time he saw her. Bruce was still kind and gentle, but also still distant. He didn't really go out of his way to spend time with Jason. Jason wondered if it was maybe because he wanted to give him space or because he was beginning to doubt having another child in the home. Alfred was kind too, but stern in a way. Jason could tell by the way he handled Bruce and Jason. He somehow was able to bully both of them into behaving in a sense, which was weird since Bruce was technically in charge, Jason thought. The Batman thing was what fascinated Jason the most. Bruce would be gone most nights, and all of the Batman news articles were clipped and collected by Alfred.

\------------------

  
One night, Dick arrived back at the manor in a black shirt and pants with some strange blue bird pattern across the top, and a blue eye mask. Dick took it off and there were cuts there. Alfred went off on him in British jibberish that Jason was still trying to understand. Jason was at the table in the kitchen at the time, eating a delicious meal prepared by Alfred. Roasted chicken with lime juice and walnuts. Alfred seemed delighted to serve Jason at the table, and now Jason knew it was because for the most part it was only him at the table most mornings and evenings. Alfred cooked delicious things like stroganoff and thick soups with chicken and butter and vegetables and meat pies and pies and cakes. He had never eaten so well in his life.

  
“Bruce show you the cave yet?” Dick asked after Alfred had walked away with the first aid kit.

  
Jason shook his head.

  
“Finish your dinner,” Dick said. “I got something to show you.”

  
Jason quickly finished and Dick wrapped two of Alfred's signature brownies in paper towels before leading Jason to the study where there was a large bookcase that went from the floor to the ceiling almost.

  
“You like Hemmingway?” Dick asked him.

  
“No.”

  
“You will now.” Dick grinned and tugged on a book.

  
Jason jumped when a strange noise sounded, and to bookcase began to turn and rotate, showing a dark path down below to...somewhere. Dick casually jogged down the ominous steps into darkness and Jason timidly followed. The steps were steep, and Jason found himself walking slowly, feeling if he moved any faster he would be falling. When they finally reached the bottom, Jason's eyes widened. The Batmobile was there, as was a large control panel and several monitor screens including one large one. There was a display case full of strange gadgets and weapons and beyond that, Jason could hear water running somewhere.  
Dick threw himself into a large plush chair in front of the control panel which was build into the ground. He propped his feet up on the control panel.

  
“What is all this?” Jason asked, moving to stand beside him.

  
“The cave,” Dick told him. “It's where Bruce, Alfred and I work.”

  
He grinned at the boy and said, “Pretty cool, huh?”

  
He pressed some buttons on the control panel and the largest screen came to life, showing an image of a girl wearing black and yellow and a mask, fighting some masked men. Dick bit his thumbnail and said, “Mm.”

  
“Who is that?” Jason asked, watching in awe as the girl was thrown to the ground and just as one of the men got down to come at her with a small knife, she wrapped her feet around his neck and swung him up and over her, hopping back to her feet using her hands, much like a backwards handstand.

  
“Babs,” Dick said, pressing some more buttons. The girl on the screen stopped and spoke into her wrist where a small strap was there.

  
“What?” She asked.

  
Dick pulled a small mic close to him and said, “You told me you were going home.”

  
“You were getting on my nerves,” Barbara said, casually elbowing one of the men hard in the ribs as he tried to sneak up behind her.

  
“You're so mean,” Dick said, grinning as leaned back. “Okay, well call me when you get home?”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” Barbara said.

  
“I loooovvvvveee you,” Dick said into the mic.

  
“Do you want me to punch you in the face?” Barbara asked, but she was grinning.

  
The screen went dark and Dick sighed, standing up.

  
“Women,” he said, stretching. A lot of his joints made loud popping sounds.

  
“So you all do this?” Jason asked. “Dress up in masks and run around and fight crime?”

  
“Consider it charity work,” Dick said, touching his toes and then raising back up to pop his back. “So how's it going with Bruce?”

  
Jason wanted to tell him that now was not the time for casual conversation about Bruce, but he felt his shoulders sag slightly.

  
“He really likes you,” Dick said. “He tells me that you're kind of reserved though. Shy, I guess.”

  
“I am not shy,” Jason all but growled.

  
“You ever spar?” Dick asked.

  
“Spar?” Jason asked, eyebrows furrowing.

  
Dick shrugged. “Pretend fight.”

  
Jason had been in plenty of real fights. In his neighborhood, you learned street fighting when you started walking. He was pretty good too. Many times he'd been sent to the principal's office for seriously injuring children. It was just something that came naturally to him, or maybe he'd inherited it from his father. When Jason threw a punch, he meant it.   
Dick started hopping from foot to foot.

  
“Come on,” he said. “Show me what you got.”

\------------------------------

  
Jason had been at the manor for nearly three weeks when Bruce woke him up very early in the morning. It wasn't even light outside.

  
“Jason,” he said gently as he led him down the stairs, Jason rubbing his eyes. “I have something very important to tell you. About your mother.”

  
Jason was led into the sitting room where Alfred was also up. There was a plate on the small table filled with fruit, bread, jam, and a fresh pot of tea. Jason liked tea now, but only if Alfred made it.

  
“I received some news late last night,” Bruce said. “Your mother...she died last night.”

  
Jason's heart fell to his feet. Alfred helped him to sit down.

  
“She overdosed,” Bruce said, sitting next to him. “They had her on life support for a little while, but she didn't make it.”

  
Jason didn't know what to say. His mother had overdosed plenty of times, ending up in the hospital on several occasions, but she'd always come home.

Bruce rubbed his back and said, “I've been speaking to social services and a lawyer to reach out to your father.”

  
Jason felt a shiver go through his body at the mention of social services and his father. They were both equally terrible and even worse together.

  
“For now,” he said. “You don't have to return home, and I'll make sure that you don't, if you don't want to.”

  
Jason didn't want to. Alfred askeif he needed anything. Jason shook his head. Bruce asked if he would like to speak to anyone. Jason shook his head again. After the two left him alone, he went upstairs and got dressed, and then he left.

\----------------------

  
When Jason returned home, his father was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking. The house smelled horrible (had it always smelled like this?) and there were bags of garbage all over the place. His father looked up, his eyes red. Jason's eyes filled with tears that he was determined not to let fall, but when he blinked, they would not stop. His father opened one arm and Jason allowed him to embrace him.

  
“It's just us now, Son, his father said.

  
Jason spent the next few days trying to clean house while his father drank, passed out, and spent hours at a time out of the house. He missed Bruce, Alfred, and Dick terribly, but who was he kidding? This was home. His father was all the family he had left now. As much as it hurt to know that his mother was gone, maybe things would be different with his father now that he would have nobody to fight with.   
After a few short days, however, his father became mean again. It started off with mean words and then glasses being thrown, and finally, the beatings. One night, when Jason was trying to stay out of his father's way completely by hiding out in his bedroom, his father stumbled in through the front door, panting heavily from the cold. Jason squirmed deeper under the covers, clenching his eyes shut tightly.

  
“Get up! Get out here!” His father ordered, swinging his bedroom door open. “Why the fuck do I keep havin' social services call me? Some lawyer askin' about you? What'd you do?”

  
“I didn't do anything.” Jason got out of bed.

  
“You little fuck!” His father took a swing at him, but missed. “You're just like your mother. Think you're too good for me. For this house.”

  
“Stop it, Dad!” Jason begged. “You're wasted!”

  
“You don't tell me to do shit!” His father picked up a random glass soda bottle from the floor and it smashed perfectly into Jason's face, shattering on impact and knocking him to the floor. His father took this opportunity to give him a few good kicks with his boot, which were still cold from being outside.

  
“You stop telling these goddamn lawyers and social workers whatever you're telling them,” he said.

  
Jason laid there, breathing heavily and blinking back tears as blood trickled down the side of his face. His father picked up a random baseball from a shelf and threw it at him, hitting him hard in the chest.

  
“If you keep crying to them that your daddy's mean, then I'll give you something to cry about, you hear me?”

  
Jason nodded.

  
His father walked out and Jason could hear him slamming doors and throwing things around. Without even cleaning himself up or getting dressed, Jason simply threw a sweatshirt on over his t-shirt and put on his sneakers and climbed out his bedroom window.   
He went back to the club where Selina had found him, which was busy now that it was night. He saw a group of older boys standing near the club drinking beer and wondered if he could approach them and join their group. Maybe they had a warm place to spend the night. Or maybe he could pick their pockets. Selina had made it look so easy.  
“Can I help you?” Someone asked, making Jason jump.

  
He turned around, hoping the hood of his sweatshirt covered most of tonight's damage. An older man with black hair in a black suit stared at him, eyebrows raised.

  
“I apologize,” the man said, smiling. “This is my club, and I received word that some 'rif-raff' is slinking around. You won't find any pockets to pick here, good sir.”

  
“I...no...” Jason stammered out. What was he doing here? Hoping Selina would show up again? Hoping Bruce would show up?

  
“He's with me, Penguin.”

  
They both turned to see Dick wearing what Jason now knew was his 'Nightwing' disguise. The Penguin smiled and said, “Is he now?”

  
“Sorry,” Dick said. “He's not here to cause trouble.”

  
The Penguin looked between the pair like he didn't quite believe Dick, but he finally said, “Yes, well please keep your...ward away from an adult club. It's dangerous you know.”

  
“Uh huh,” Dick said, and Jason could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Thanks for the warning, Cobblepot. Have a good night.”

  
“And to you, Sir.”

  
Once they were away from the club, Dick asked, “What the hell were you doing there?”

  
“What were you doing there?” Jason countered.

  
“Stakeout,” Dick said. “Penguin's getting a shipment of drugs in, but now I had to save your ass.”

  
He sighed and groaned at the same time. “Come on.”

  
Jason rode back with Dick to the manor on a motorcycle and when they went inside, Bruce was still in his Batman disguise, minus the cowl. He saw Jason, whose eyes filled with tears, and approached him. He pulled down the boy's hood and sighed heavily.

  
“I...I didn't know,” Dick said, also sighing. He ran a hand through his hair.

  
Jason's face heated when tears began sliding down his cheeks.

  
“Enough is enough,” Bruce said, sounding angry as he walked away. He returned with Alfred, who took one look at Jason.

  
“I'll go down to that neighborhood and give that bloke the beating he deserves myself!” He said. “This is out of control now. What kind of father does this to his son?”

  
“Come on then,” he said to Jason. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

\--------------------------

  
That night, Bruce came into Jason's room and sat down beside him on the bed.

  
“I'm not letting you go back there,” he told him. “I want you to understand that it's because I don't just fear for your well-being anymore. I fear for your life.”

  
Jason said nothing.

\---------------------------

  
Weeks passed and turned into months. Somehow, Jason legally fell into Bruce Wayne's care. He wasn't sure if his father was paid off or locked away, but it didn't matter. A social worker came to Wayne manor and explained to Bruce, Alfred, and Jason that he was legally in Bruce's custody and that he was to have no contact with his father.

\--------------------------

  
Bruce enrolled Jason in the school he'd attended as a boy, and Dick. It was an all boy's school and Jason had to wear a uniform. He hated it. He hated the school even more. The other boys knew he was from the wrong side of town, and tried to tease him about it. Jason retaliated with fists and soon found years of pent up anger was coming out in bursts. He got into fights almost daily, and usually won, but it was frowned upon by the headmaster.   
When he was expelled for three days after Horace Grisham had gone home with two black eyes and a busted lip, Bruce picked him up from school and Jason sat in the passenger seat, sulking. He stared out the window.

  
“I hate that school,” he said. “Those kids hate me.”

  
To his surprise, Bruce only nodded.

  
“If you're not ready to attend school,” he said. “That's fine.”

  
“It is?” Jason frowned.

  
“You enjoy sparring with Dick?” Bruce asked, which caught Jason off guard.

  
“Yes,” Jason said.

  
“How would you like to spar with me?” Bruce asked, and even though he wasn't necessarily smiling, there was a slight twinkle in his eye.

  
Sparring with Bruce was nothing like sparring with Dick, who used a lot of gymnastics and running away. Bruce was all about fists and force, though his fighting was much more disciplined than Jason's. The boy ended up rolling across the mat every time.

  
“You're good,” Bruce told him, taking a minute to wipe his face with a towel.

  
The sparring turned into a routine, along with homeschooling from Alfred, who unlike the teachers at the school, could force Jason to pay attention and do his work. Bruce began taking Jason out running and rock climbing and Jason joined him in working out. There was a lot to do. It wasn't just weight lifting, but cardio exercises and yoga too. Jason wasn't too fond of the yoga, but he did it anyway. It was a lot of stretching and breathing.

\----------------------

  
Over the course of a few months, he got better at sparring with Dick, and managed to trip him twice, knocking him down on the mat. Barbara sparred with him too, and she was good too. Jason still blushed around her and sometimes wished she was his girlfriend instead of Dick's. He was getting better at his studies and was much better at math than any other subject. Alfred began teaching him fencing as well.

\----------------------------

  
It was one evening after homework and tea that Bruce asked Jason to join him in the cave. Without a word, he handed him a folded pile of clothes. Jason carefully unfolded him. There was a pair of black pants, and red, black, and yellow top, some gloves, a cape, and a mask.

  
“I have you some boots too,” Bruce said. “Alfred made the uniform, the same way he did mine and Dick's. The material is very durable, but breathable as well-”

  
“You want me to be Robin?” Jason asked quietly, in love with all of Dicks' stories of being Batman's second in command, the boy wonder.

  
“If you would like that, yes,” Bruce said.

  
Jason set the clothes down carefully on the control panel.

  
“There's a lot of potential in you,” Bruce told him. “Potential to good thing for this city and-”

  
Jason threw his arms around the man. Bruce actually wanted him. He really and truly wanted Jason in his home, and his life. This was the proof. Bruce carefully hugged him back, long and tight and murmured something into Jason's hair. Jason wasn't sure what, but he caught the word 'son'.

 

To Be Continued...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, Ethan Cutkosky is my headcanon Jason Todd. I can't wait until this kid grows up and can play a Red Hood version of him :)


End file.
